


Careful What you Wish For

by Dontgotone



Series: Don't Got No Drabbles [13]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Collars, Fear of Death, M/M, Mutilation, Prisoner of War, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 09:25:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13831257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontgotone/pseuds/Dontgotone
Summary: Skids is always willing to hop, skip and jump to Tarn's tune in the Grindcore, if it will prevent anyone from getting hurt.Sometimes, that means he's the one to get hurt.And sometimes, that's what he wants.





	Careful What you Wish For

"You shouldn't go to him." 

Skids rolled his optics. His cellmate hadn't left the topic alone for more than five minutes in the past week. 

"Come on, you know he'd spend time torturing some poor hapless bot if I wasn't there to entertain him." 

"He's going to do the same to you eventually, you know. He'll get tired of his precious pet, like all the previous ones, and he'll show you that torture first hand." 

The theoretician had to suppress a shiver at the idea as he stepped through the cell door, two larger security bots putting clamps on his wrists and ordering him to walk forward. It's not that he wouldn't answer Quark because he was right, of course. It was just that... the idea was one that kept Skids awake at night, array fully charged and desperate. He knew it was wrong, he knew it wasn't right, but the idea of it... He was knocked out of his reverie by a rude shove from one of his guards, so hard he tripped over his pedes and landed face first in the middle of Tarn's office. The walk had gone faster than usual. Or maybe he'd been too caught up in his dirty fantasies to really notice. 

"So what do you want me to do today, Fearless Leader? Fix a teleporter? Bypass a circuit fault?"

The fearless quip came naturally, even with his spark trembling. You couldn't ever really relax here in the Grindcore, and as much as it fed into his darkest desires, and as much fun as he'd had with the other bot, being invited to Tarn's office could just as easily be a death sentence. 

Slowly, the prison's warden stepped around his desk to look at the fragile smile on Skids' features, as well as to wave the guards away. The look in his eyes was... Cold. Distant. 

Terrifying. 

Absolutely arousing.

He started to get up, but the bigger bot stepping on his back put a stop to that. The door closed, and while Tarn added more and more pressure, it locked. 

"Don't bother getting up, Pet. I want to see you squirm today."

The pressure only got worse until Skids was crying out, the pain in his chassis too much to stay quiet as cracks appeared across his chest and back. Only then did the pressure lessen, the magnetic clamps removed from his wrists and replaced with a tight metal band that dug into his neck cables. Skids' vents were acting at full capacity, he was already seeing spots. Despite the ache, the blur in his optics and the searing heat coiling in his spark, the theoretician got up on all fours when Tarn tugged the leash. 

Truthfully, after an opening statement like that, Skids had been prepared to be hung off a wall and beaten. Or torn into with sharp implements. Instead, the leader of the DJD was simply walking across the room with him at his heels. Telling him to roll over. To sit. To play dead. To "speak". All this only meant that he had something truly excruciating planned, he was sure. And that certainty, coupled with the acts of obedience, only fed into the raging storm of his arousal. 

His cpu pinged him a warning he angrily ignored, even as Tarn moved to sit in his chair, pulling hard on the leash so Skids would follow. He knelt there, between his knees, for what felt like hours. He was expecting the bot to pull his own spike free, to force him down on it... But instead, he just scrutinized his 'pet'. Let his claws run along his features, caressing his kibble. Took stock of him, perhaps. Skids had to force himself to stay still when the collar was removed and placed on the desk.

"Do you know what I like the most about you, Pet?" 

His voice was so quiet, Skids had to lean in further to hear properly. 

"You're devoted. You know what you enjoy... And you jump head first for it. You don't scheme, you don't trick, you don't lie. You know what you're about." 

Those strong claws grabbed his chin so hard he felt some paint scratch off, but Skids didn't even try to look away from his old friend. The roiling current inside of him burned, his modesty plating strained, and he could feel his spark pulse with each of the other's words. 

"But most of all, what you enjoy is something pure. Something dark. Something Base. You're doing this to help people... You are... But Deep inside... You know... That's not the only thing...." 

Skids barely noticed the shift from being forced to look up to being held up, his upper body sagging. The heat in his core continued to coil and rage and boil over, even as the pulses of pleasure from his spark felt weaker and weaker. 

"I.. Gnhg.. Gghk.." He couldn't move, couldn't reach up and grab at Tarn. All he could do was whimper pitifully as his voice got quieter and quieter. 

"You like the fear. You adore the uncertainty." 

Tarn's claws ran over his chest plate, sending more heat through Skids' body. Heat that struggled against a terrifying chill from which he couldn't feel his arms or legs anymore. Those claws dug into his frame and he gasped, but there was no energy in it. The pain was dulled, even as the bigger bot began to peel away layer after layer of metal, tearing and ripping to get to his prize. 

"You get off to the idea that one of these days I'll just tire of you, and snuff you out. Probably think you deserve it for surviving when so many died." 

His optics were dimming, and despite it all, Skids could still feel his spike straining against his modesty plating. Could still feel the charge in his frame that was, by now, even stronger than the yield of his spark. 

"You're a perfectly trained little pet. You beg and preen and do my bidding without even asking."

Cold metal claws wrapped around his shrinking spark, the grip solid but gentle. Encasing the small source of life without crushing it.

"And that's why you deserve this. You deserve to feel this."

Skids wasn't sure if Tarn continued talking. He couldn't see out of his dimmed optics. He couldn't hear anything. Could only feel the unbearable weight of his charge and the cool, still fingers of death holding his minuscule spark. And that spark began to pulse. To grow. To feed him life again. Skids started to gasp, and that turned into a cry of pain. His spark was growing, was gaining strength and size and power... But Tarn wasn't opening his hand. 

Trapped, he felt like he was being crushed between two planets. His arms shot up with a desperation, grabbing onto Tarn's wrist as his whole body shook. The heat, the coiling desire, the _lust_ he felt slammed into him, spreading through his whole frame like a virus along with the existential pain that was his spark being allowed to grow and return to form but still being crushed. 

It was all too much. 

Skids offlined, falling limp, and wasn't even aware of the gentle way he was set down on the floor. Of the claws that released his spark so they could caress his face, his helm. Of the soft cloth that was taken to his crotch, cleaning up the fluids of an overload so strong his thighs had singe marks. He didn't hear the way Tarn cooed and complimented him, said he would be a worthy convert to the cause if he held that fanaticism. Or when he called to the guards. 

"Bring him back to his cell. Offer him an extended ration of energon this week. He's been through a lot and we don't want to lose our prized worker..."


End file.
